Chapter 8
“Ms. Hayward, Barbara is here for the interview.
Through the floor–to–ceiling windows, I watched her white figure standing downstairs. Two hours had passed, and she was still waiting.
The counterfeit dress, the faded makeup- life hadn’t been kind to her since Mr. Davis tossed her aside.
“Show her in.”
The door opened with a creak, and Barbara forced a smile, trying to maintain her grace. “Ms. Hayward, it’s been a long time.”
“Sit.” I opened her resume. “Three years as a
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Human Resources Director; mostly handling ‘special talent recruitment‘? And your experience at the Gilbert Group–was it just drinking and cooking the books?”
Her face turned ashen.
“I saw the live stream disaster too.” I sneered. “Messing up basic scripts? No wonder Mr. Davis kicked you to the curb.”
“Amy…” She suddenly switched to my nickname, her voice softening. “I know I was wrong. Please, give me a chance…”
“Rosewood Financial only hires genuine, capable talent.” I closed the file. “Not just anyone can get in.”
“Please…” She dropped to her knees, her lavish makeup running down her face in streaks. “Mr. Davis took back the house. I
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don’t even have a place to stay now…”
The security quickly dragged her out.
She huddled in the corner of the lobby,
crying, her white dress covered in dust.
Then, another commotion arose downstairs.
“Mr. Gilbert, you can’t go in!“.
“Do you know who I am? I’m Ms. Hayward’s ex–husband! Before we divorced, I was the president here!”
I walked to the window and saw Errol being stopped at the lobby.
His suit was wrinkled, his tie askew–this was the only decent suit he had, carefully maintained each day just to make himself presentable at the company.
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“Amy!” He saw me and shouted hoarsely, “Give me one more chance! I know I was wrong! Here’s the limited–edition lipstick you wanted most. I stood in line for a month, saved up every penny just to buy it…”
The security guard stepped forward. “Sir, please leave.”
“Wait!” He continued struggling. “Amy, you loved this shade, right? I didn’t let you wear it back then. I was an idiot…”
“Ms. Hayward, Derry is downstairs too” the secretary said. “He wants to see you. He says he’s sorry, and he begs for your forgiveness…”
Through the glass, I saw my son sitting under the Rosewood tree, wiping his eyes.
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I had heard that recently, the kids at his school had started calling him “poor boy” and he no longer dared act like the arrogant teenager he once was.
The same boy who once called me “useless” now finally understood what regret felt like.
“Ms. Hayward, the assistant handed me a file, “Forbes wants to feature you as their cover story, with the theme ‘Financial Person of the Year.””
“And, Mr. Davis lost the bid again,” she added.
“That’s the third time this year. I heard he was furious, calling Barbara a jinx during a drinking party.”
I chuckled. “Business is a battlefield. Those who don’t understand finance will never
grasp that truth.”
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Standing by the window, I overlooked the city below.
Errol and Derry stood silently side by side waiting at a bus stop, father and son lost in their quiet, unspoken bond.
His suit cuffs were frayed, and he carried a plastic bag with convenience store meals.
Derry clutched his backpack straps tightly. Inside were dry pieces of bread–he couldn’t even afford the school’s lunch program
anymore.
This was the superior life they had longed for?
The setting sun bathed the Wall Street in a golden hue.
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A luxury car sped past them, splashing water onto Errol’s pant legs.
I recognized the license plate–it was Mr. Davis’s car.
A young woman sat in the passenger seat. It seemed he’d already moved on to his next fling.
Three years ago, they mocked me for being good only for grocery shopping and cooking.
Three years ago, they claimed I couldn’t survive without them.
But now, I had proven to them that a true financial queen never has to look up to
anyone.
“Ms. Hayward, the board meeting is about to
start.”
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I adjusted mysuttand took one last glancece outside.
My disgraceful ex–husband, the homeless mistress, and a son whohad finally learned to repent–all reducedtcoffragments of the past.
This time, I would live withhelegance and strength.
Thriving alone was the best treswaard lccould give myself.
END
Book 2: After Divorce: From Despised Housewife To Boss
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After fifteen years of marriage to Eric, I discovered that his first love had become our son’s teacher.
He had been secretly dating her behind my back, taking her on trips.
Our son also helped him keep it from me.
When the car accident happened, they left me in the car, all for his first love.
I had had enough and decided to divorce him.
Eric, however, mocked me, “After being a housewife for so many years, you won’t even have money for groceries once we divorce.””
Our son looked down on me too. “Mom, you’re just an old hag, why are you making a
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scene?”
After the divorce, I started my own business and became wealthy. They begged me to come back.
But I mocked them instead. “You want me to return to be your free nanny? You must be dreaming!”
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